


Faaz, Briinah

by beautifullybarbaric



Series: Dragons, Killers, Thieves, and Kings. [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Character Death, Gen, Murder, Rape/Non-con Elements, Violence, and headcanon, implied/refrenced prostitution, the attempted/elements aren't towards the main character and is never explicitly stated, way too much canon divergence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-14
Packaged: 2019-06-06 20:28:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15202823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifullybarbaric/pseuds/beautifullybarbaric
Summary: Salashar had nothing good for her in Cyrodil, after all.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey guys! I really love the weird, non-canon plotline I have for this fic. Since I have improved a bit at writing, I decided to get myself together and rewrite it. Enjoy and comment!

Cyreano, the adopted high elven son of Valdus Gladiolus and Brinna, was walking home.

 

The dirt path was a familiar one. Wrought by decades of young feet, scrambling down to a clearing nestled in the forest to play.

 

The village that was his home for five of his ten years was only a few centuries old. First constructed as a haven for refugees displaced by dremora during the Oblivion Crisis. Many people didn't have a home or family to return to, once it was over, so they stayed. Forming the quiant town of "Hopeful Rest." A town that persisted to this day.

 

He whistled to himself. A quiet song his birth mother had always sung over her children. The memory was faint and bittersweet. It was one of the two things he remembered about his mother.

 

It was her song. And her screams as she was stabbed by rioters after the signing of the White-Gold Concordant. Her only crime being the fact she was Altmeri. It didn't matter that she and Cyreano's father had turned their backs on the Aldmeri Dominion over ten years before the war. They were still elves.

 

He swallowed down, speeding up a bit. The other kids had split off earlier. The houses scattered over a hill, and not bunched close like in cities. So he was alone when he heard it.

 

Wailing. Shrill and high.

 

He paused. It didn't sound like an animal. It sounded... Human. But he was still on his guard. Cyreano walked over to the bush it was resonating from, crouching down to warily take a branch in his hand, and slowly push it away.

 

Curled up on the grounds was a bundle of crying cloth.

 

_A baby._

 

He took it into his arms, cradling it the way he had seen neighbors do. The crying didn't stop, but it quieted. 

 

He looked around. There was no parent to be seen. 

 

"Hello? Hello?!" 

 

Nobody responded. Cyreano tightened his grip on the baby, and turned to start walking towards his home.

 

He paused at the door. Realizing he could not knock nor open it himself, his hands were full.

 

"Mummah! Father!"

 

A stout Imperial opened the door. "By Stendar what-" He froze when he saw the baby.

 

"I found them in the bushes, Father. I can't see any parent." 

 

"Brenna!" Father shouted into the house. "Come quick!" 

 

Father took the baby. He was still gentle, but far firmer and surer than his son.

 

"Cyre. Go get some of the dried sickness herbs from the root cellar. Fast please." The door clicked shut behind him. 

 

Cyreano obediently ran around back, opening up the cellar and taking the steps down two at a time. He went past the jarred fruit and canned vegetables. Stopping instead at the pouches of dried plants. He grabbed the one labeled  _"Medicine"_ in his Father's loopy handwriting, and tucked it under his arm. Running back out and letting the trapdoor slam behind him.

 

Cyreano darted up to the door and opened it. Shutting it quietly behind him.

 

His mother was heating something over a stove. It smelled like goat's milk. His father had the baby on a cleared, flat container and was unwrapping the bundle.

 

"Put those there, next to the fire, Cy." His mother didn't look up from her job as he did as he was told.

 

The Nordic woman grabbed a scrap of cheesecloth off the cupboard, bending down to grab a handful of herbs and set them inside the scrap, before lowering it into the milk. 

 

It started to smell minty in the room.

 

"Dear, all she has is an Amulet of Akatosh. And it's wrapped around her well. Looks like she was left where she was." Father left the baby for a moment. Returning with clothing that was better than what looked like a shredded cloak.

 

Cyreano sat on a chair. Watching his parents.

 

His mother tossed the cloth, still filled with it's herbs, to the side. Pouring the milk into a cup, she padded over to her husband. "I suppose she doesn't have anyone? Huh dear? Should we.." 

 

"What else would we do? Leave her for the wolves?" Father took the cup from Mummah. Picking up the baby to let her drink. "She'll stay"

 

"What should we call her, then? I don't know much about Khajitii names."

 

The baby finished. She let out a soft purr. Father lifted her up to set her against his shoulder. Her delicate, ashen snout settled into the crook of his neck. 

 

"When I still lived in the city, I knew a Khajiit woman named ''Salashar'. She was a dear friend. We could name her after her?"

 

"That sounds alright, love."

 

Salashar turned her tiny head. Cyreano could swear she was looking right at him. She opened her eyes.

 

They were reptilian, and the color of fire.


	2. Chapter 2

I slid my finger tips along the tree's bark. Feeling for small bumps and hollows. Little gaps that a young khajiit's claws could easily grapple.

 

I dug my fingertips in. Giving a tug to ensure the grip was strong, and pulled. 

 

I lifted my feet up, wrapping my legs around the trunk. My claws crawled up the tree. Higher still. I inched my way up. Finally, I reached the point I was going for. A branch that extended over a tall boulder. I grasped it in my hands. Pulling myself up.

 

The branch wobbled under my feet and I broke into a run. I lunged for the rock.

 

Panting, I settled down. Neatly tucking my grey tabby tail around my ankles. 

 

My eyes lifted to the sky. To the clouds. I reached an arm up, opening my palm to grasp at the clouds. 

 

_What do the clouds feel like?_

 

I longed to fly. But only birds could fly. And I had no feathers nor wings. 

 

My ears pricked up as I heard running feet in the woods. I collapsed against the rock. Pinning myself flat. 

 

I heard a child shriek as they were found. Followed by another.

 

_C'mon... One more._

 

A kid shouted from somewhere off in the brush. There was a spurt of high-pitched laughter. 

 

I smiled.

 

"I wonnnnn." I gripped the edge of the rock, carefully sliding down. 

 

"Only you would go up high, Salashar." One of the village kids tapped my shoulder.

 

"Now, I get to pick!"

 

I grinned. Baring my pointed teeth.

 

"And I say we play... Race. First one to the white cypress wins!"

 

 All five children turned without counting and started to run.

 

* * *

 

 

"You'll visit?" I watched my younger brother whimper. Karodell was only five. Small, even for a wood elf of his age. He was dwarfed beside Cyreano.

 

"I'm not going yet, Kar. I leave tomorrow. Alright?" He ruffled his hair. "You're gonna have to watch out for Salashar for me. You know how she can get."

 

"Hey!"

 

Cyreano grinned at me.

 

"You are a loser. A lossserrrrrrr." I pouted, swinging my feet from where I sat on a fence.

 

Someone started shouting through the woods.

 

A woman from a village, one of their neighbors, was running. She screamed as an arrow pierced her back.

 

I slid off the fence as Cyreano grabbed Karodell by the shoulders.

 

"Run, quick!" Cyreano picked Karodell up, turning away from the village to run. I followed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is not too obvious, but:
> 
> Karodell is a five year old bosmer.
> 
> Salashar is an eight year old khajiit.
> 
> Cyreano is an eighteen year old altmer.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahah. It's not too obvious but a few years have passed. Three, to be exact.
> 
> Now this is one of the worse chapters when it comes to dark, messed up shit. Someone dies and is implied to have been assaulted. So trigger warning.

The door creaked shut behind me. 

 

_Where is he? Cy should've been back a few hours ago._

 

I gripped the side of our stout shack and dragged myself up. The wood creaked beneath my hands as I started to run over the rooftops. 

 

_He'll be by an inn. Or docks._

 

Cyreano had come home hurt before. But never was late. He was only hurt if he brought home money. He would have a limp and bruises. How hurt must he be now? At first I had thought he might be a mercenary. He was oh-so gifted with his magic. 

 

But... I knew now. 

 

I skid to a stop at the local inn and clawed my way off the roof. I found myself hesitating to open the door, but I swallowed and pulled the handle.

 

The only person inside was the innkeeper.

 

"Sorry sir." I squeaked as I shut the door and backed away. 

 

I clambered back up a wall and sprinted for the docks.

 

As I ran over the rooftops, I might have missed it. A pale, lanky figure half-leaned against the wall of an alleyway. 

 

But I didn't.

 

I slid off the roof, scrambling to my feet and sprinting to my brother's side. 

 

"Cy! Cy! Are you okay?"

 

He didn't respond. 

 

I swallowed and walked over to him. He was in a small pool of blood. Not enough to be deadly, right?

 

I gripped his shoulder and shuddered at how icy-cold his skin felt. 

 

"Cy...?" 

 

My hand brushed his face as I turned his head to face me.

 

His eyes were the milked white of death.

 

I bit back a scream and stumbled away.

 

_Not Cyreano. Anyone but Cyreano._

 

Cyreano who had put his dreams aside for Karodell and I. Who had always taken the smallest portion of food. Who came back in agony after a deal with a "client", always for us. Never taking anything for himself Cyreano. And he was dead.

 

I gathered myself back up and walked over to him again. His throat was bruised a brilliant red and black, stark against his golden throat. 

 

_He was choked. Someone killed my brother._

 

I bit back a sob and closed his eyes. 

 

"S-sorry, Cy. I should've looked earlier. Sorry. Oh Akatosh- How could? Why would someo- Oh Akatosh, I'm sorry."

 

Tears rolled unhindered down my cheeks.

 

Cyreano. Kind, soft Cyreano. His smile and his magic. His songs and promises that Karodell and I would get out of Bravil someday. 

 

Now that I thought about it, he'd never made that promise for himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is kinda short. But I can't make it much longer, as the next ~important~ event is Salashar picking up thievery. Which doesn't really fit the theme of this chapter. Feel free to comment.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aha Salashar is 21 now whatever. Karodell is 18. B y e.

I stopped dead in my tracks.

 

I recognized that man's pendant. 

 

I had only stopped in this bar because I had spotted a well-dressed gentleman going in for a glass of wine. I had planned to knick his coinpurse. But, obviously, that was the last thing on my mind.

 

The last time I had seen that necklace, Cyreano had it. And whoever this man was, he must at least be acquainted with his killer.

 

Suddenly, this whole thing became very personal.

 

It was an amulet, magically imbued to allow it's wearer to essentially, 'read' someone's grasp of magic. 

 

It was one of a kind. It's... Odd purpose made it useless to pawn. Otherwise Cyreano would have sold it off when they first reached Bravil.

 

It was Cyreano's, and it had been missing off his corpse. 

 

Rage bubbled beneath the surface, but I beat it back down. Instead, I took a deep breath and walked up to the man.

 

I grabbed a bar stool and spun it under an ankle. With a purposeful sigh, I slipped down to sit elegantly on the stool.

 

"So, friend. That's a mighty nice necklace you've got there~"

 

He stiffened and smiled at me. "Yeah I suppose."

 

"How much would you be willing to sell it for? I think it's rather pretty."

 

He looked annoyed. I knew he'd be. I didn't want to buy the damn thing. I just needed to know where he got it.

 

"It's not for sale."

 

"Oh, that's fine." I purred, winding my tail along the stool's legs. "At least tell me where you bought it. I'd like one just like it."

 

The Imperial narrowed his eyes. "It was a gift."

 

"Well, who gifted it?"

 

"They're dead now."

 

"Oh." I brought fake sorrow to my face. I became all the more aware of the steel dagger I kept with me. "You have my condolences."

 

I excused myself and stood up from the bar, walking away and out the door.

 

My hand slid to my dagger's hilt.

 

Later tonight... My new friend and I were to get very well... Acquainted. 

 

 

 

 

 

I had waited only half an hour outside the alehouse before he hurriedly left. Leaned nonchalantly against an alley's wall, I observed him. I snickered and dropped into pace.

 

 

 

 

 

 

His house was not poor nor grand. It was the rare middle class sort of dwelling. I swore I must have robbed a house in this neighborhood at least once.

 

I paused as he slipped inside and started to walk around the back way. Just like all houses in Bravil, there was more than one way in. Mostly because more than one dwelling would be in a single building, and they would often be somehow connected. 

 

In the end, I crawled through an absent neighbor's window and shimmied down a garbage chute. I found myself rounding him from behind. My dagger was cold ice in my hand.

 

"Now. Friend." I snarled. "Tell me,  _exactly_ What this dead man looked like."

 

He whipped around, clutching a dinner knife. I bared a fang at him. 

 

"Answer me, Damnit!" I slammed my fist on a nearby table. 

 

"He-he was an elf!" The man sputtered. "I don't know his name."

 

"Then why would you know he is dead? If he is not a friend?" I drew closer, unwinding my dagger from where it was tucked behind my back. "Or... Did you kill him?"

 

"Damnit woman, what do you want from me!" He backed up, bumping against a wall.

 

"I want an answer."

 

"Alright I did!" He spat. "I was a bit too rough and he died, okay?"

 

I tightened my grip on my dagger.

 

"Say hello to my brother for me."

 

"Wha-" His reply was cut off as I sunk my blade into his chest. He sputtered. Blood dripped down from his mouth. 

 

He struggled to lift his hand that held the kitchen knife, but I slammed my dagger through it and into the wall. 

 

He screamed. 

 

I drew my blade back again and brought it back into his torso, this time ripping into the spot I  _knew_ a kidney was. 

 

He doubled over in agony and collapsed. But he screamed again.

 

Somebody pounded on the door.

 

I dropped down next to him, rolling him over.

 

I brought the dagger down into his eye, and deeper. All at once, he went still. 

 

The pounding didn't stop.

 

I grabbed the amulet and cut it's leather cord, tucking it deep into a side pouch where I knew it would be safe. 

 

The door creaked and snapped open, a guard clutched his sword in one hand as he moved into the room.

 

I dropped down and gripped a nearby windowsill, dragging myself out and into the open air.

 

I landed and ran.

 

And ran.

 

And ran.

 

And I never looked back on Bravil.


End file.
